*Trigger Warning* What About Me? The Forgotten PTSD Survivors

I’ve been searching for years for help for those who are non veterans and suffer from PTSD. I’m going to tell you a life story, hardly believable, but provable by documented evidence. We think of traumatic events usually in pairs, groupings, with some form of end to the suffering at which point one is finally diagnosed and treated for PTSD. We talk about the events and placing someone into Cognitive Behavior Therapy, Eye Movement Desensitization, and medication. What we fail to realize is that some cases, specifically complex PTSD sufferers will react differently to these treatments.

By age 3 I was in foster care due to physical and sexual abuse and neglect. By 10 I was adopted by a family where I was both told I was chosen and loved as well as told they wanted us when no one else would love us. I was consistently stripped of my dignity, strip searched, belittled when I made great accomplishments, told how no one would ever want me. At 14 I was placed back into foster care when I told my father I was afraid of my mother who had threatened to kill me over a math problem. I was raped 10 times between the ages of 14 and 16 as a runaway, from a group home that was shut down for the abuse which occurred. 

I spent 2 years in a juvenile prison when I tested positive for marijuana and cocaine while on probation for fighting. I was released into homelessness. At 19 I became pregnant, met my future husband, and moved in with my new abuser. Over the next six years he would take away every ounce of confidence I had, I’d beg officers not to write reports of spousal abuse because I feared for my life (this man got away with 97 felony counts in Ocala, FL, of course I’d be scared). When I hid away enough money I got the courage to take my 5 year old disabled (mentally ill) child and leave. By 11 my son had been hospitalized multiple times for suicidal ideations and severe behavioral issues. In 2015 my child was 3 in taller and over 150 lbs heavier due to combined medical issues. In febrFebr he threatened suicide and when the officer arrived to determine whether or not to commit him for evaluation, my child ran to the kitchen and got a butcher knife and ran to the back yard. He then turned the knife on me in front of the officer and kept coming until the officer drew his weapon and placed a round in the chamber. My son was then diagnosed with conduct disorder, precursor to socio or psychopathy. I got into a new relationship after 8 years of being single, and that became controlling and verbally abusive, bordering on physical. Due to a high risk pregnancy it took months to leave that and struggling moving from place to place living with friends with my now released oldest, my middle child, and pregnant. We finally settled in a small town, started over. Until I had to escalate a situation where my oldest was punished for documented medical issues all the way to the Federal Department of Education Office of Civil Rights. Within 2 years, at 14, my son began to talk in depth about his desire to taste human flesh, and I woke up at approximately 330 am in the middle of summer 2017 with my oldest son touching me inappropriately. I think I just lost a little more of myself with each new situation. In March 2018 I had to give my son over to the state to protect my 2 younger children, which rips my heart to pieces daily knowing I can’t help or be near my oldest because I’m terrified of him. He’s 6'4" 300 lbs. I’m 5'5" 150 lbs. And trained in corrections. So I’m not a pushover. But I also can’t tell you how many times I’ve called for help, asked for help, begged for help because I’d done everything for his medical and mental health, everything disciplinary short of abuse (which I absolutely refused to resort to abuse because really how will that help a mentally bill child or any child for that matter???). I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told to be a parent and stop expecting the state to raise my child. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been blamed, or any victim in these types of situations has been blamed for the actions of the perpetrator. People who know him can tell you one minute you may think you’ve met Saint Peter and the next Satan’s spawn. Some don’t even understand how I can still love him or wish I could have him home .Heck, I don’t even understand. I go back and forth between maybe he has truly changed and we’ll well he has manipulated me into believing that before. I feel like I just attract situations in which I guess I invite people to victimize me. 

Could you honestly blame me for not wanting to relive each trauma? As if I don’t already have nightmares or go into a trance like state where I hear these things and see these things or have these arguments in my head and analyze for every possible way they could respond and what I’d say back. I fight every day to find proper outlets for my anger because my two youngest deserve me to be as stable as possible. I’ve been denied disability because there are times I can’t even function enough to make a doctor’s appointment because the office is always packed and I just can’t “people” that day, or because I didn’t want to fight with a new pharmacy to get meds filled when my insurance was switched. I’ve searched for resources and honestly I finally found NAMI, but for PTSD specifically, everywhere I’ve been able to turn I’m expected to have been to war to be eligible for assistance. I’m sorry, I never put myself in that situation because I may have issues but I know my limits. I can’t handle that, or first responder. I’m too jumpy, too emotional, too empathetic. It’s almost like imagining I’m the one experiencing the traima, not because I want to, but because it’s so easy to do when I know what trauma does, when I know most traumatic situations and how severe and different the reactions can be for different individuals. I’m treated like I’m stupid, though I have a genius IQ at 173. I fight my battles in my mind and shake like a leaf in confrontation in person. 

I’m not sure who you are, but if you’re reading this, you are NOT alone. I haven’t forgotten that PTSD can happen over an extended period of time and some cases are more severe than you’d like to admit. I’ve omitted a lot myself, not because of shame alone, but because I can’t possibly list everything without writing a series. It’s ok to not be ok. I’ve accepted who I am. I take my meds as often as I recall (I have alarms set and sometimes they malfunction). I get up every day knowing I’m not someone else, I will never be them, I have to be me and I have to keep moving forward. But what really hurts is that I have walked through hell for 36 years and because it wasn’t in a military capacity, or a first responder capacity, and because I’m not a child, I live day to day hoping I can keep my kids in a safe shelter. Why? I am not eligible for the same resources. So yes, there is a reason some of us feel forgotten. There is a reason some of us feel like our lives don’t matter or that our trauma is downplayed or we are expected to “just get over it”. 

Here is my counteroffer: Just recognize my existence, that some lives are so traumatic and filled with events beyond the individuals control that it is literally like a lifetime of combat. You can’t possibly begin to understand if you refuse to recognize us. I’m still here. I’m still fighting.